An Ordinary Decent Criminal by Michael Van Rooy

slurring. “Sure.”
    “Do you want me to call a cab?”
    “Nah, I’ll be fine.”
    Sound of a door shutting and a lock closing, then she laughed.
    “I never will understand . . .”
    When the tape was over, I handed it over to her.
    “Ummm. Sweetheart?”
    She was putting the headphones on and trying to stop Fred from biting his own toes. “Yes?”
    “Did you sleep with Thompson?”
    “No. Why? Should I?”
    I looked out the window but there were no answers there.
    “Then we have a problem. Someone really doesn’t like us.”
    Claire listened to the tape and rewound it to the start before answering slowly. “I think you’re right.”
    She said it calmly enough but I could see that she was angry. Her brows were drawn together and her lips were tight and narrow. She exhaled and spoke. “What are we going to do about it?”
    I thought about breaking the tape into small pieces but I reconsidered. “I don’t know yet.”
    Two tiny red spots appeared on her cheeks, signs of strong emotion. “When you’re done with him or her, then they’re mine.”
    She exhaled through her nose and listened to the tape for a second time. “Okay. Some of it seems to be part of a conversation that Thompson and I had at my hotel room the night after you were arrested. He came by to introduce himself and ask me some questions.”
    I looked at her quizzically. “To your hotel room? He came to your hotel room?”
    She laughed but it sounded brittle. “Yes. Very un-lawyer-like. Hecalled before he came and asked a few questions, and he could have asked the rest of them over the phone but he came over instead. Actually, I thought he was going to dump you.”
    Claire patted Fred down and checked his diaper.
    “When he got up to the room, though, he was flushed and angry. Sort of scared and smelling of booze and cigarettes. Does he smoke?”
    I had to think about that and a series of images of my lawyer flashed through my mind’s eye. Smokers have tells, twitches, just like any other addict, but there are also a bunch of physical signs that hadn’t been there.
    “No. His hands are clean, his breath is okay, his teeth are pearly white-ish. And I’ve never seen him light up. He does drink, though.”
    “Does he ever, he drank about half a bottle of Stolichnaya. He asked a bunch of questions about your past, mine too, for that matter.”
    “What did you tell him?”
    She smiled sweetly. “The truth, of course. Don’t you remember the rule?”
    I smiled back. “Yeah. Always tell your own lawyer the truth and always tell the other guy’s lawyer the lies.”
    Another golden rule of thieves. I thought it through and then spoke slowly. “Walsh put some pressure on him. I think he went to you to try to deal with it.”
    “Fine. Is he going to fold?”
    “I doubt it. He’s too angry. He’ll be even angrier if I let him hear the tape.”
    “Yes, he will.”
    Claire and I looked at each other across the bed and smiled and the tape sat there in the space between and steamed its poison.

10

    They made us take a taxi when they finally let me out of the hospital. I argued until Dr. Leung told me I would be staying if I didn’t get a cab and at that point I agreed. Claire had a bag with my clothes over one shoulder and pushed the stroller with Fred while Leung pushed me in a wheelchair. One tire wasn’t straight and kept grinding as he lectured in a dry, flat voice.
    “. . . so take it easy. No stress, no strain, and no exercise beyond the stretching we’ve talked about. No alcohol, no coffee, nothing caffeinated. Those things would strain your system. What little is left, that is.”
    The nurses and orderlies paid us no attention as we passed and finally we made it to the main entrance.
    “No red meat. Fish and chicken, though, wouldn’t hurt. Just a little.”
    “Doc?”
    He leaned over until I could see his nose.
    “Yes?”
    “You’ve got a lousy bedside manner.”
    He smiled and kept on pushing.
    The peppermint nurse